You reach out your hand, but you're all alone, in those time passages.

Do you remember the church across the sands? You stood outside and planned to travel the lands, where the pilgrims go. So you packed your world up inside a canvas sack, set off down the highway with your rings and Kerouac. Someone said they saw you in Nepal a long time back. Tell me why you look away, don't you have a word to say?

There's room in the world for one historical folk-rock singer to make a decent living, and I happen to be it.

Nothing that's forced can ever be right, if it doesn't come naturally, leave it.

I know there's a big bad world out there, but I rarely come across it.

Looking so cool, his greed is hard to conceal, he's fresh out of law school, you gave him a license to steal.

Whoever you pretend to be, you must face yourself eventually.